


still to hear her tender-taken breath

by gealach



Category: Dark Wolverine (Comics), Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Fem!Johnny, Femslash February, Femslash February 2020, Manipulation, Past Abuse, fem!Daken, pertaining to Daken's canon background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22578013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gealach/pseuds/gealach
Summary: Daken is completely enamored with Joan Storm.
Relationships: Daken Akihiro/Johnny Storm
Kudos: 16





	still to hear her tender-taken breath

Joan was magnificent.

It was ridiculous, really, how Daken kept flitting towards her, like a moth endlessly fascinated by the stunning brilliance of fire. Joan was radiant, iridescent; always smiling, always welcoming, but with shadows hidden behind her eyes. Jealousy, perhaps, for her much smarter sister, or maybe just the knowledge that she was the weakest link in the “fantastic” family, so young and trusting, liable to be exploited in order to worm one’s way into the family. And yet she persevered in her almost childish positivity, in always believing the best of everyone. She was too kind for this world.

She was infuriating.

She was stunning when she flamed on, majestic when she took flight… crowned with licks of fire, her eyes bright supernovae that burned into Daken’s soul. She was exquisite, a queen in the sky; there was an exhilaration in her breath when she touched down after flying high. She belonged to the heavens – she was a thing of beauty, unburdened by earthly matters.

She belonged in Daken’s arms.

She’d been, oh, so easy to get close to, so easy to manipulate into finding Daken’s company indispensable. Too easy. She should be more careful, take better care of herself. She shouldn’t be so trusting.

She shouldn’t allow wolves to nuzzle her. They still bit, afterwards.

Daken had yet to.

She told herself she was just biding her time, cultivating a relationship that would be more useful in the long run; she told herself that she had all she needed. But already she’d let opportunities go, already she’d let go of her original goal of pocketing a few of Richards’ creations. She’d had plenty opportunities; more than once she’d stayed the night in Joan’s room, more than once she could have slipped out undisturbed. But Joan slept so peacefully, her features so soft in the dark. She illuminated everything, left Daken in a haze.

Daken was a smart woman. She knew what was happening – what she was doing. She was making the most dangerous mistake in the books: she was falling for her prey. Decades of training and hard work should have beaten such foolishness out of her, but just one glance at Joan’s gentle gaze was enough to rein her in, to make her forget everything she’d learnt with blood and tears.

She still asked herself why. It wasn’t purely physical; even though she was a sensualist, first and foremost, and Joan was truly stunning, luscious golden locks and full lips and the bluest eyes Daken had ever seen, deep and wide, pools to swallow Daken whole. Joan was the stereotypical white american beauty, the kind that won country-wide pageants, the kind that was revered and coveted, and Daken shouldn’t have fallen for such a bland picture-perfect mix. Beauty was the currency of this world and Daken could navigate it with ease; a pretty face shouldn’t make her weak in the knees.

No, it wasn’t Joan’s face. It wasn’t even Joan’s body, lean and just the right amount of soft, with lovely breasts and long legs, the small of her back seemingly made for Daken’s palm, her nape an exquisite arch Daken loved to explore with her fingers, drawing shudders and sighs out of Joan’s perfect mouth.

It was Joan’s peculiar expression, that spoke of someone with a keen mind and a capacity for greatness that still chose to stay close to the earth. It was Joan’s kindness, not saccharine but genuine. It was… perhaps it was just Daken’s new weariness, her newfound discovery of her place in the world. Perhaps she was just tired after decades of lies and abuse, and she’d clung to the first arms that had welcomed her. Perhaps it was Joan’s distinct lack of malice, how surprised she’d looked when Daken had first cradled her face. How she always focused on Daken’s pleasure instead of chasing her own, when people had always taken what they wanted from Daken’s body.

Perhaps it was the way Joan’s lashes had trembled when she’d looked up the meaning of Daken’s name – and how delicately she’d let the matter go when Daken had asked.

Perhaps it had been that. The fact that Joan had bothered to try to learn a bit of Daken, but had taken a step back when she’d seen Daken’s expression.

What Daken knew, with a certainty that scared her, was that she was done for. Every instinct screamed to turn on her heels and leave. Every nerve chafed at the vulnerability she was showing, at the knowledge of the many ways to hurt her that she was leaving open to anyone willing to try.

But Joan’s arms were warm and safe and her smile could soothe even Daken’s old, rotten soul. Joan was a balm, a haven, a beacon. A white-hot star, blazing high and bright; a compass.

Daken wondered if she was idealizing the woman. She wondered if this was just a midlife crisis, or if Joan would tire of her eventually. Certainly she would chase her away if she were to discover what a monster Daken really was; but every small revelation, every minuscule piece of herself that Daken had so far revealed, had been met with patience and quiet interest and understanding. It was disquieting.

It was, oh, so welcome.

Joan wasn’t a fool. She was soft and kind and trusting, yes, but she was also fierce; a tigress, wild and primal. She fought with unparalleled ferocity when provoked. She was incredibly perceptive. She just chose to turn the other way, but she struck with incredible precision when needed.

Was this just a fragile flight of fancy, a dream that could only shatter in the end?

The covers rustled and Joan flung her arm around Daken’s stomach.

“Can’t sleep, babe?” she mumbled, her arm a furnace against Daken’s naked flesh. Joan’s body run hot; it made sleeping together an interest experience.

Daken rolled to the side, searching Joan’s eyes in the dark. They were half-closed, fixed on Daken’s silhouette.

The deepest, brightest blue. They truly were startling.

“Babe? You all right?” Joan propped herself up on an elbow, her arm tight around Daken’s waist, searching Daken’s gaze and failing in the darkness. Her eyes were wide now, alert, and Daken’s heart clenched.

 _I don’t want this to end_ , she thought with sharp clarity. She reached up, cupped Joan’s cheek. “Yeah,” she murmured, and she felt the tension disappear from Joan’s muscles. “Everything’s fine, dearest.” The endearment came unbidden out of her mouth.

Nonetheless, it was true.

The revelation was so stark it took the wind out of her. She wanted Joan; she wanted this, her smile, her scent, her warmth. She wanted Joan’s sweet, gentle touch.

She could only lose herself in Joan’s bright, bright eyes and regain her breath. Joan however had noticed how still she’d held herself, and she rested her forehead against Daken’s, their noses brushing. “You know, you’re a terrible liar.”

Oh, oh, the irony! Daken felt a surge of tenderness, tinged with shame. She reached up softly, searched Joan’s mouth. Joan sighed and melted, their lips brushing gently, their hands lazily roaming their bodies. Joan’s gaze was sharp, questioning, worried, but she’d relented once more, and Daken’s chest ached so.

She’d tell Joan. Tomorrow, in the light of day, she’d lay herself bare and face Joan’s judgment. She hoped for forgiveness.

Tonight, she’d take what she could, knowing it could be the last.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wanting to write a fem!Dakenxfem!Johnny for literal years and it’s finally here! Brought to you by this year’s _**Femslash February**_ , which I encourage you all to check out, by the way.
> 
> I’m playing fast and loose with the timeline here, it’s set after Romulus’ lies were revealed fully but Daken is a bit more adjusted. Speaking of, there’s a whole new level of uncomfortable connotations if a female Daken uses that slur for herself, but I behaved and didn’t fill this story with angst.
> 
>  _Joan_ is just _one_ female version of Johnny’s name, I chose it because of Joan of Arc obviously, a little on the nose maybe but I liked it.
> 
> If you head over to my tumblr, gealach-in-a-misty-world.tumblr.com, you can see the accompanying edit I made for this fic.
> 
> Title from John Keats’s _Bright Star_.
> 
> I’d _love_ to hear your thoughts, leave me a comment if you want ^-^


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